Fires of Celestal
by Nero Vipus
Summary: As each planet in the Celestal System is systematically destroyed, Colonel Vorink, of the Celestian 10th Heavy Armoured Regiment, must use all of his experience and cunning to save those he loves from the fires of war. Review please, only takes a second.
1. Chapter 1

'_Time to bring down the Heavens.'_

_-Colonel Valdevski, of the Celestian 10__th __Heavy Armoured_

_Regiment, during the defense of Vladovsk._

**Chapter One**

Thunder peeled through the sky. Rain fell in heavy torrents, drenching anyone unlucky enough to be caught outside. Trees bent over in the wind. Leaves flashed through the air. The sharp edge of a leaf slashed the cheek of the only man in sight, leaving a thin streak of blood. Grunting, the man turned away from the wind and pulled his coat tighter around him. Raucous laughter spilled out of a tavern across the street as a drunken guardsman stepped out into the rain. The man ignored both the tavern and the cursing guardsman and continued on his way. A car raced by, splashing muddy water on him. Cursing, he looked behind him to see if any other vehicles were nearby. He stepped towards the building next to him as a Chimera troop transport turned onto the street. As if the driver could read his thoughts, the Chimera pulled up to the curb and stopped. The assault ramp lowered and a friendly face popped out.

'Need a ride Colonel?'

The man nodded and stepped towards the APC. 'On a day like this? I think I'll walk and enjoy the weather.'

The men inside the troop compartment laughed. The sergeant at the ramp smiled and beckoned the colonel to get in. Sitting down in an empty seat, he looked around him. 'I don't recognize your unit.' He said.

The sergeant grinned and signaled the driver to continue. 'Celestian Eighty-First. We were founded about a year ago. Just arrived in the system.'

'Mechanized?'

The sergeant shook his head. 'Infantry sir.'

'What's your name, Sergeant?' the Colonel asked.

'Sergeant Kelthor, at your service sir.'

'Nice to meet you sergeant. I'm Colonel-'

The sergeant's grin broadened. 'Sorry to interrupt sir, but we know who you are. I'd be surprised if there was a single person on Celestal who hadn't heard of your crusade against the Tau in the Eastern Fringe.'

The Colonel grimaced. 'It wasn't my crusade. Lord Commander Belmund was in charge.'

'Well, either way, it's going to be an honour to fight alongside you sir.'

The Chimera slowed to a halt. 'Command HQ, your stop Colonel,' the driver shouted back.

'Thanks for the ride. Colonel Vorink walked down the Chimera's assault ramp and stopped. He looked around him as the transport drove away. Miraculously, the rain had lessened to a slight drizzle. Off to his right, a long line of Leman Russ MBTs stood silently in front of a row of Basilisk Heavy Artillery Tanks, their guns raised to the sky, as if saluting him. Vorink smiled as he saw the stylized ten on their hulls. The image of a Basilisk flew on a banner mounted on the front of the nearest Leman Russ. He walked up to the banner and brushed his fingertips against the wings of a soldier standing above the Basilisk. His eyes were fixed on those of the beautiful woman before him. Pitch-black, shoulder length hair framed a face that radiated sadness and determination. Piercing blue eyes stared back at Vorink. The soldier held a lasrifle in one hand, while in her left, she held the tags of fallen Guardsmen. Her armour was the exact replica of Vorink's, except for the silver Aquila in the centre of her breastplate. A white number ten stood out on her left shoulder pad. General Viltra, the founder of the Celestian Regiments, had died more than fifteen hundred years ago, and was now depicted on each and every Regimental Banner. In life, she had been hailed as a hero of the Imperium a thousand times over. In death, she led the armies of Celestal into countless war zones.

Remembering the reason for his trip, Vorink shook his head and walked into the command building. Nodding to those he passed, he made his way to the top floor and entered Lord Commander Belmund's private briefing chambers. An empty chair sat before an oak desk cluttered with papers. There was barely enough room for a mug half full of stale caffeine in one corner. Picts of various heroes of the crusade adorned the wall. Vorink stopped in his tracks as he recognized himself from twenty years ago. In the image, he was standing atop a Leman Russ, holding his banner high and giving the order to charge a horde of Chaos filth. He heard the door open behind him and snapped to attention.

'As you were, Colonel.'

Vorink moved his feet apart and clasped his hands behind his back. Belmund walked around to the other side of his desk and sat down. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

'Well Vorink, the sooner this is over, the better, so, I'll just get straight to the point. The war here is over for you and your men. Command has recalled your regiment. Your to be sent home.'

Vorink stiffened. He felt as if he'd just been slapped. 'Sir? I'm not sure I understand.'

Belmund grinned. His smile was devoid of any happiness. 'Oh, I understand perfectly. The governor of your system wants the best Celestian regiments back home. Somehow, he got the support of the Seekers. Damned Astartes practically ordered your immediate withdrawal. I'd have been able to deny them, barely, but the paper-pushers at Segmentum Command agreed to it. So, get your men ready. You leave in two days.'

'But sir-'

'That wasn't a request Colonel. Dismissed.'

Vorink's jaw tightened. 'Yes, sir.' He did an about face and left the room. The troops weren't going to like this…

A heavy rain fell from the sky, drenching the ground and turning it into muddy rivers. Long lines of armour slowly made their ways up the ramps of massive beetle shaped troop-carriers. Five Baneblade Super-Heavies waited at the rear of the armoured columns. Hundreds of Leman Russ MBTs drove alongside hundreds more of Hellhounds, Demolishers, Hydra Flak guns, and Basilisks. The whine of engines increased. The ramp of the nearest troop-carrier withdrew back into the ship and the hatches eased shut, looking to Vorink like jaws of some massive warp-spawned filth. The downdraft caused by the ship's lifting nearly knocked him off his feet. Regaining his stance, he continued to watch the carriers slowly ascend into the sky. The loading of his regiment would take at least another hour. He didn't need to be a commissar to know the morale was low. He could tell the regiment hated the sudden recall. They all felt betrayed. The Tenth had never left a war unfinished. The men resented that they were being forced to now.

Vorink sighed. He turned around and boarded the waiting transport behind him. He stowed his gear in the alcove above his seat and sat down. Just before the hatches shut, he thought he could see the distant forms of Sergeant Kelthor and his squad, saying goodbye to the men they had thought were the heroes they'd be able to fight alongside. The transport lifted into the air and circled the pick-up zone, gaining altitude. The pilot straightened his course and left the planet behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Vorink looked out the view port of the massive transport ship. He smiled as he saw the familiar stars of his home system. He sighed, knowing the trip was almost over. It had taken the ship five months to return to the Celestal System. They had made brief stops at three different war zones to pick up other Celestian regiments. There were close to one hundred thousand soldiers and five thousand armoured support on the ship. Vorink's own regiment, the 10th Heavy Armoured, had been joined by the 61st Infantry, the 17th Infantry, and the 52nd Mechanized. A voice over the intercom interrupted Vorink's thoughts.

'Orbit over Celestal achieved. Welcome home boys and girls. Deployment will commence within the hour.'

Vorink took one last look out the view port and left the room. Walking into the aft docking bay, he saw his men already boarding the transports. The vehicles had never been unloaded, and were already locked in place, ready for the drop. He walked up the ramp of the nearest drop ship and banged on the hatch of the first Leman Russ he came to. A first lieutenant popped out, ready to scream and rage at the man who had touched his precious tank. He paled when he saw Vorink.

'Mind if I hop in?' Vorink asked, suppressing a smile.

'N-not at all,' the Lieutenant stammered.

'Why thank you Lieutenant.' Vorink couldn't help but grin. 'Don't worry; I'll be out of your hair as soon as we're planet-side.' He climbed up the side of the tank and dropped through the hatch. He sat down in the empty gunner's seat and buckled the harness. Sirens began to wail outside the drop ship. A groaning sound cut through the air as heavy metal servos at the back of the ship forced the ramp to withdraw and the hatch to shut. Red emergency lighting switched on and bathed the hulls of the tanks in its bloody glow. Vorink was pressed back into his seat as the transport accelerated. A second later he could lean forward again. It was in times like these that he envied the infantry regiments. At least they could look out the few view ports in the side of the transport and see the various ships of the Imperial Navy, picked out amongst the stars.

Vorink sighed and looked down. He noted the name scratched into the range-finder for the tank's main cannon and his spirits plummeted. Michael Santos. The joker of Alpha Company, Santos had kept up the morale of his fellow guardsmen even in the worst of combat. He had never made it past sergeant, constantly being rebuked for mouthing off the officers. Vorink remembered the war in which Santos was killed. The regiment had been deployed to the fortress world of Rakthor, trying to drive out a host of Chaos scum and reclaim it for the Imperium. A rocket had taken out the treads and the traverse system for the main gun's rotation, rendering the tank useless. In order to buy the Lieutenant the time he needed to fix the gun, Santos had leaped out of the tank and grabbed the rifle of a nearby fallen guardsman. Using the tank itself for cover, Santos had managed to kill fifty-three cultists and ten Chaos Marines with his expert marksmanship before a Chaos round blew his brains out the back of his skull. He had managed to buy the Lieutenant sixteen minutes, and died just as the turret's repairs had been completed. The Company had suffered a terrible blow in that conflict, a blow they were still trying to recover from.

The troop-carrier jolted and Vorink was slammed back into his seat. The tanks in the ship's hold strained against the clamps holding them in place. Fire wreathed the ships hull, generated by the friction of atmospheric re-entry. After a final, bone-jarring jolt, the ship's flight smoothed out. The Lieutenant switched on the tank's vox-caster and radioed the pilot.

'How much longer until landing?'

'Just a couple more minutes. Clear skies, no AA fire, and a direct route to the LZ, I'll have you boys on the ground in no time.' The pilot failed to hide the amusement in his voice.

The Lieutenant reached over and switched off the vox. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

***

Vorink walked down the ramp of the drop ship, leaving the Lieutenant and his cursing tank crew to wash the Lieutenant's lunch out of the inside of their vehicle. He walked over to another landing drop ship and waited as his command tank drove down the ramp. The only difference between Vorink's 'Command Tank,' and standard Leman Russ MBTs was the banner flying on the mast attached to the back of the tank's hull. The top hatch opened and his second officer eased himself partially out of the tank. Major Corens was the sort of man people couldn't help but like. His eyes always twinkled, as if laughing at some private joke, shared just between you and him. A thin black beard covered the lower part of his face, barely obscuring the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to his left ear. His close-cropped hair was the colour of the deepest night. The troop's loved him, and would follow him into the depths of Hell.

'Hello commander. Thought we'd left you behind.' He smiled. His voice could make a person trust him with their life in a matter of seconds.

Vorink grinned back. 'I decided to terrorize one of the lieutenants. Still hasn't developed the stomach for these surface drops.

Corens chuckled. 'Poor sucker. So, shall we go and see what this is about?'

'Yes. Take us to the Governor's Palace.'

***

Jask Forisk of the Palace Guard walked into the security post set behind the main gates and glanced around. There had just been a shift change, and it was his turn to monitor the vid-screens connected to the cameras placed all around the premises. He bit back a curse as he looked at one such vid-screen and saw the inner gates still open. The incompetent bastard on watch would need to have his rations revoked for a month. He'd soon learn not to risk the life of the planetary governor. Forisk sat down in a chair and looked at the mass of screens before him. There were five other posts like the one he was in further down the road, each with a double set of gates and manned gunnery posts. Heavy stubbers had a three hundred metre area in front of each gate covered in a lethal cross-fire. Forisk straightened in his seat as he saw a Leman Russ pull up in front of the gates. The tank had a number ten stylized on its side hull, and was painted in the colours of the Celestian Imperial Guard Regiments. The top hatch opened, and a man wearing the uniform of an Imperial Guard Colonel climbed partially out.

'We're here to see the planetary governor. Open the gates.' The colonel's words didn't exactly match the movement of his lips. Forisk touched a few dials and tried to compensate for the lag.

'And you would be…?'

The colonel's eyes seemed to bore deep into Forisk's soul, even through the vid-screen. 'Colonel Vorink, Celestian Tenth Armoured.'

Forisk shivered. He'd never met the man before, never even heard of him, yet he already hated him. 'Sorry to inform you, Colonel, but your tank stays here. If you'd be so kind as to wait, I'll arrange for transport.'

Vorink looked away from the camera and sighed. It wasn't like he was planning on burning the Palace down to its foundations. Still, it was best not to antagonize the Palace Guard. They could make even the most basic task take a month to complete. He moved the tank over to the side of the road and ordered his crew to dismount. Corens glared at him briefly before complying.

'Sir? Whatever happened to "Imperial Armour: Death before Dismount?"'

'If we want to get anything done, we have to play by their rules. They're sending us a transport.' Vorink hid his annoyance with a grin. 'Don't worry; you'll be back in the tank before long.'

'Better be,' the Major grumbled. Ten minutes later, a small silver car came into view. It was hovering about two feet off the ground. A heavy stubber was mounted in front of the front passenger seat. It pulled up in front of Vorink and stopped. Corens eyed it with jealousy and whistled.

'Think you could get me one of those?'

Vorink smiled. 'Maybe when you retire.' He turned to the rest of his tank crew. 'Stay here and make sure no one messes with my tank.' The men saluted and climbed back aboard, smiling as they did so. Vorink climbed into the car next to Corens. The driver turned them around and headed back through the gates. Vorink looked around him as the car continued on its way. They passed through an enormous set of ceramite gates. Towers lined the road, separated by a kilometre each. He could see Palace Guards with the sniper-variant of the standard issue las-gun tracking them through their scopes. Trees lined the road, bathing it in shadow. Vorink leaned back and closed his eyes. He remembered coming here when he took official command of the Tenth to be honoured by the Governor himself.

'Here we are sirs. Have a nice day.' The car pulled up next to the front door of the Governor's Palace. A guard stepped forward and opened the door. Vorink got out and led his second into the building. He glanced around him as he stepped up to the receptionist's desk. In the corner of the room, he saw a man he only barely recognized. General Sylvan was sitting in a dark corner of the room, away from the other visitors. He had a horrendous scar on his forehead, gained during his legendary defense of Baltutsk, the command base established on Rakthor. A massive horde of cultists and Chaos Marines had assaulted the base for weeks. Sylvan had fought a valiant defense, turning the warp slaves back every time. He had been in overall command of the campaign on Rakthor, but had to delegate command to his subordinate so he could take personal command of the defense of his base. After four weeks of constant fighting, the enemy had broken through. The base was in complete turmoil. Sylvan managed to gather a group of tanks and guardsmen, and set up a last-ditch effort to defend the landing pad. They were still evacuating the civilians from the base. After another four hours, the defending guardsmen were nearly overrun. Sylvan was unconscious from blood loss.

It was then that Major Vorink arrived at the base. Basilisks pounded the Chaos filth at range, while Leman Russ MBTs and Hellhound tanks rolled in amongst the enemy. Seeing the armoured reinforcement, the defending guardsmen rallied to their banner, and sent the Chaos loving wretches back to the Hell they were spawned from. General Sylvan awoke to find the skies burning. Ash rained from the heavens. The guns of artillery constantly spoke, sending bright arcs of fire burning through the air. Major Vorink had managed to route the corrupted cultists, and had pursued them to the Ta'hiri Mountains. His push had been halted as the enemy brought up even more Chaos Marines and artillery. Sylvan had awoken to a world of hell. Guardsmen either fought or ran, but whichever they chose, they died. Burning shells of tanks were strewn about the battlefield. Sylvan managed to find Vorink, and together they came up with a proper counter-strike. The two officers called in countless air-strikes from the Imperial Navy, and pushed forward with all their might. They broke the back of the Chaos Host and, in turn, broke its hold on the planet. Out of nearly one thousand other regiments, Vorink's had been the only one to survive the campaign. Upon returning to Celestal, Vorink was promoted to Colonel, and took the place of his former commander, dead and buried in the sands of Rakthor. Before parting, Sylvan promised Vorink that he would find a way to repay his life-debt.

'Vorink? Colonel Vorink? The governor will see you now.'

Vorink's mind snapped back to the present with enough force to cause him to wince. 'Thank you.' He stepped past the receptionist and entered the Governor's office. After shutting the door, he turned to the man at the desk and saluted.

'At ease Colonel. What can I do for you?' The Governor had a thin, pale-skinned face. The color of his eyes reminded Vorink of the centre of a star going supernova. Long black hair hung down to his shoulders. The scents of twenty different perfumes pervaded the room. Vorink had to struggle not to gag.

'Sir, my men and I were wondering why we were called out of the Culcis Warzone. Why have we been recalled? It's not the Celestian way to leave a war unfinished, yet you have ordered us to do so.' Vorink looked the Governor in the eyes. 'And why only the most distinguished and hardened regiments?'

The Governor leaned back in his chair and smiled. 'Well Colonel, I'm afraid I can't answer those questions. I've given General Sylvan the details. At the moment, everything is on a need-to-know basis, and frankly, you don't need to know. If you'd be so kind, I have a lot of work to do.' He gestured to the door, making it clear Vorink was dismissed. Vorink ground his teeth and bit back a response that would put him on the wrong end of a firing squad. He saluted the Governor and left the room. Dark thoughts invaded his mind. It took him a moment to realize someone was calling him. He turned back around and saw General Sylvan making his way to him.

'General. Good to see you again sir.'

Sylvan grinned a mirthless grin. 'Wish I could say the same Vorink. Got time for a short talk?'

'Of course, Sir.'

'Walk with me.' Sylvan walked out through the doors, and headed towards the Palace gardens. 'The idiot we call a governor has been kind enough to give me the details as to why we've all been called home. Fleet pickets stationed around the system have picked up something on radar. They're not entirely sure, but it looks like a massive Chaos fleet has entered warp-space and is heading this way. It's the beginning of another Black Crusade, and we're the start.'

Vorink looked at the ground. His face was slightly paler than before. Chaos was coming to his home, to pillage, burn, and kill. He thought back to the results of previous Black Crusades: worlds left barren, lifeless husks, entire systems destroyed, untold billions dead. Even the immortal Astartes are never left untouched.

'It's not as bad as it seems,' Sylvan continued. 'A company of Archangels is en route, as is the entirety of the Seekers chapter. If the Great Enemy wants this system, they'll have to fight damn hard to get it. I've been put in charge of the defensive efforts. I may be a legend, Vorink, but I can't do this alone. That's why I requested your regiment. You've been through more combat in the last year, than most soldiers see in a decade. You have the experience needed for this.' He looked at Vorink. 'And I'm repaying my life-debt to you by allowing you to fight for your home, while countless others don't get that chance.'

'Why recall only the best? Why not all Celestian regiments?'

Sylvan sighed. 'Colonel, it's a miracle we got as much as we did. You think the Imperium cares about one small system? The only reason Segmentum Command gave me what I got, is because this is the home system of an Astartes Chapter. Of course, the Seekers aren't exactly their favourites. If this was the home of their precious Ultramarines, they'd have sent the entire Segmentum Fleet, along with a couple hundred thousand regiments, but I take what I can get.'

Vorink looked up. His eyes had the determined stare of a man who knew his time was coming, but wouldn't stop fighting until the end. 'What are your orders, Sir?'

Sylvan smiled. 'That's the spirit. I'm putting you in charge of the defense of the capital. I'll be giving you clearance for all the materials you'll need to construct a proper defense grid. Whatever happens, you _must not_ let this city fall. Understand?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Good. Questions?'

'Just one. Where will you be?'

Sylvan grinned again. 'I'll be taking the fight to them. Now, go. Brief your men. Undoubtedly the Governor told you this information is on a "need-to-know" basis. Forget about that. Tell your troops everything. It'll make them fight that much harder. Dismissed.'

Vorink saluted. He left Sylvan staring off into the distance, enjoying the peace while it lasted. He found Corens waiting for him by the car.

'Get lost on your way to the bathroom, then? We've been waiting a good twenty minutes.'

Vorink gave the major a look that told him to shut up. 'Let's get back to base.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

18:23

Vorink looked around him. He saw the blank expressions of men and women living on borrowed time. A massive curtain wall had been raised around the city, built to connect with the mountain cliffs on the east outskirts, and surrounded by miles of minefields. Platforms had been built to give Vorink's Basilisks greater range. He could feel the tension in the air around him. He turned to Corens and gestured to the vox unit beside him.

'Any news?' he asked.

'Aye,' Corens looked up at him with weary eyes. 'Dyk'thos is gone.'

Vorink stared for a moment. 'What do you mean, gone?'

'Gone. Rubble. Blasted to bits. The fleet's falling back to try and hold them here. The Astartes will be on the ground by morning.

Vorink sighed. 'We're next, Corens.'

'Aye, Sir. We'll send the warp-spawned filth back to hell with their tails between their legs.'

'I wish I shared your confidence.'

'You'll be shot if a commissar hears you saying that.'

Vorink chuckled darkly, 'Major, I'm going to be shot either way.'

Corens grinned. 'That, or eaten alive by a hungry daemon.'

'Any word from Sylvan?' Vorink asked, changing the subject.

Corens checked the vox logs. 'He's set up a field command base on the far side of the planet,' he paused. 'Sir? When did the Archangels make landfall?'

Vorink threw him a confused glance. 'What?'

'Says here the Archangels Third Company has a squad working with Sylvan.'

'Show me.' Corens moved aside and let Vorink read the message. Half-way through, Vorink glanced up, as a shout came down from the walls.

'Astartes, inbound!'

Vorink sprinted for the stairways as fast as he could. By the time he reached the top, a crowd of thirty other guardsmen had gathered, looking out over the plains. Vorink's breath caught in his throat as he followed their example. The sky had darkened to a deep blue, the light of the descending sun casting the few clouds in a purple shade. The waist tall grasses lining the road swayed in the breeze. The last vestiges of light glinted off the armour of a lone transport making its way towards the city.

A figure in armour of the deepest black Vorink had ever seen manned the heavy bolter on the vehicle's roof. The armour seemed to absorb the light around it, creating its own shadows and rendering it virtually invisible. Vorink had the distinct impression that he only saw the figure because it wanted him to. A shouted voice cut through his thoughts, coming from one of the men beside him.

'Open the gates!' Loud groans split the air as gigantic servos began to turn, forcing the heavy gates to move. The steel had been heavily reinforced with ceramite and adamantium, causing it to be heavier than the servos were accustomed to. The gates slowly ground open, leaving a space big enough for three Leman Russ Battle Tanks to fit side by side. The vehicle's form resolved into that of a Space Marine Rhino. As the transport passed through the gates, the sunlight caught on the image of a silver wolf's head framed by golden wings, causing the symbol to shimmer and move.

The wolf's eyes bore into Vorink's soul. It read his deepest thoughts, knew his darkest desires, and, in turn, Vorink knew its. This was a Chapter damned and cast from the Emperor's light. The wolf's head sensed a kindred spirit within Vorink, and was pleased with his courage and unfaltering loyalty. The image passed into shadow, and Vorink snapped back to his senses. The effect had lasted less than a second, but seemed to be an eternity. As the Rhino entered Vladovsk, Celestal's golden sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the world in shadow.

18:30

Vorink walked up to the back of the Rhino and waited. The transport had stopped under the glare of a street lamp. The assault ramp began to lower. A massive figure stepped out, quickly followed by four others. Vorink hesitated, just realizing exactly how big an Imperial Space Marine was. He only came up to the Marine's chest. Of course, the Astartes were, in no real sense of the word, men.

Going through years of grueling training, hypnotherapy, and horrendous surgeries, an aspirant to a Space Marine Chapter loses all trace of their humanity on day one. Superhuman beings, the Astartes are the best the Imperium has to offer. Capable of surviving for years off of tree bark alone, containing the strength of twenty men, able to seal their armour from the vacuum of space, the Astartes exude power. From the ranks of the Imperial Space Marines, came tales of heroic defeats, glorious victories, and unrelenting loyalty. Vorink was more than a little nervous; this was the first Marine he had ever had the opportunity to talk to.

'Welcome to Vladovsk, the Capital City of Celestal.'

The Marine who had disembarked first turned to look at him. 'Thank you Colonel. Are you Vorink?'

'Aye, that's me.'

'I'm Brother-Sergeant Velthos of the Archangels' Third Company. Captain Aktar has decided to end the Chaos threat here. The company will be fighting wherever their needed most across the planet. My squad and I will remain here, on the request of your general. There is one regiment en route to the planet. They'll arrive tomorrow. The forces of Chaos will make landfall at midnight.'

Vorink blanched. 'The fleet said-'

'The fleet was wrong. Make ready the defenses.'

00:01

The Marine's prediction proved to be correct. A minute past midnight, the skies began to burn. Four thousand drop pods streaked from the heavens, leaving bright trails of fire. Hundreds of thousands of transports followed in their wake. Soldier and civilian alike, stared up in fear. All throughout Vladovsk, alarms rang and bells sounded, signaling the Guardsmen to the walls. Five regiments mounted the walls, pointing three-hundred thousand lasguns into the surrounding plains. Sixteen-hundred quad-barreled auto cannons pointed skywards as tank crews mounted their Hydra Flak Tanks. All one thousand Basilisks of the Celestian Tenth Heavy Armoured raised their massive Earthshaker cannons, ready to pound the enemy into submission.

Vanquisher pattern Leman Russ tanks rolled into their places, behind a line of Bane Wolves, and pivoted to face the gates. Anything that forced its way through would receive a full blast of toxic gases, causing the skin to melt from the bones, and blood to boil in the veins. Whatever survived would be blown apart by the high-explosive shells of the Vanquishers main gun.

Leman Russ Punishers prowled through the city streets, Gatling Cannons revved up and ready to fire. Sniper teams established positions on rooftops, and in the windows of towering hab complexes.

Colonel Vorink dropped into the command seat of his own tank, the _Fury of Celestal_, and sealed the hatch. 'Vox the _Blood of Valdevski_ and the _Destroyer of Worlds_ and tell them to mount up and get rolling.'

The driver nodded and spoke into his helmet mic. Corens hunched over the controls for the right side sponson mounted lascannon and flashed an evil grin at the other gunner. Vorink activated the vox link in his helmet.

'All units, mount up. Enemy armour approaching the city from the Northern Pass. Do not let them reach the city limits - your families are counting on you. Advance and destroy them.' A chorus of assent sounded from his company officers. The _Fury_ lurched forward and out of the light of a street lamp.

'Damned Chaos bastards, couldn't wait 'till morning,' Corens muttered as a Leman Russ Vanquisher rolled up alongside the tank.

'Took your sweet time Lieutenant. Where's the _Destroyer_?' Vorink asked.

The commander of the _Blood of Valdevski_ didn't answer. Instead, the searchlight mounted next to the hatch swiveled and pinned a Leman Russ Executioner in its accusing glare. The light glinted off the black lettering of the tank's name. The plasma cannons mounted on the tank's turret, and both sponsons gave off a barely visible blue glow, the plasma coils charged with lethal energy.

Vorink nodded to himself. 'Companies Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, advance through the Northern Gates. Delta, fire on the mountain pass when ready.' His captains' responses were drowned out by a huge roar. The Basilisks of Delta Artillery Company had opened up. The shells left glittering arcs of fire in the sky, before returning to the ground in massive explosions. The Basilisks bracketed the pass and slowly tightened the noose, cutting the Chaos troops already through off from any further reinforcements. Vorink's tank, along with those of his main three companies rolled forward and left the city.

'Gunner, target lead tank, just below the turret.'

'Target acquired.'

'Fire.' The tank's battle cannon roared, sending an explosive round screaming toward the enemy. The shell slammed into the crevice where the turret met the hull, ripping a chunk out of the tank's roof and blowing the turret off. The tank slowed to a halt and went up in a ball of flame as its ammunition caught light.

'Nice shot,' Vorink said.' He switched to the regimental command frequency. 'Alpha Company, we're going straight up the center - carve the bastards in half. Bravo - take the right flank, Charlie - take left. Kill every one of these damned heretics. For the Emperor.'

A blinding stream of light lanced past Vorink's tank as the _Destroyer of Worlds_ turned an enemy vehicle to molten slag. Light strobed through the night as Bravo and Charlie companies opened up. An Earthshaker shell slammed into the ground ten metres away, nearly flipping the _Fury of Celestal_ and showering it with dirt.

'Delta, watch your fire! Target the pass, not the field, damnit!' Vorink yelled into the vox.

'Affirmative, retargeting.'

Corens grinned madly as he and the gunner across from him sent torrents of superheated energy at into the enemy lines. The _Fury_ blazed with light as the front hull-mounted lascannon added its weight to the fire. Vorink's tank squadron blazed with the incandescent rage of the Emperor. The _Fury_ led Alpha Company tearing through the Chaos armour, leaving burning husks in their wake.

'Alpha, Bravo, Charlie - light 'em up.' The three tank companies speared towards the enemy. Tank rounds and energy blasts flew back and forth, decimating Imperial and Chaos alike. Sloppily aimed Earthshaker shells slammed into the ground, destroying a Chaos Predator and one of the few Demolishers in Vorink's regiment.

'Delta, cease fire! Captain, I want to see you as soon as this is done.' Vorink's voice trembled with rage. As the explosions from the artillery barrage died off, the mountain pass was revealed. Wrecks littered the pass, bodies fused into smoking craters. By the light of over a hundred burning hulks, Vorink's combat group mopped up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

13:05

Rain fell in a slight drizzle, creating a haze in the air. Puddles had started to collect in the crevices of the parade ground. Sixty thousand Guardsmen were crowded into the grounds, standing at parade rest, eyes forward. Colonel Vorink glanced at the sky. Though it was past midday, not a single ray of light shone through the clouds. He looked at the wooden pole standing fifteen metres in front of the regiment and sighed. He turned to Corens. 'Well major, best get started.'

'Sir.' He stepped forwards. 'Regiment, attention!' He turned to Vorink and nodded.

Vorink took a deep breath and readied himself, 'Captain Lysend, step forward.'

The captain of Delta Artillery Company stepped to the fore and looked Vorink in the eye, daring him to continue.

Vorink walked over to him and tore off his rank insignia. 'You are relieved of company command.' He did an about-face and returned to his original position. 'For incompetence of command, resulting in the deaths of Lieutenant Volun, Sergeant Rythan, and Privates Kentath, Sythor, Keltan, and Valdinsk, and the destruction of the _Wrath of Darkness_, and endangering the lives of fellow Guardsmen and his superior officers, Trooper Lysend of the Celestian Tenth Heavy Armoured Regiment, Delta Artillery Company, Alpha Squadron is sentenced to thirty lashes.'

Two commissars of the Celestian PDF grabbed Lysend by the arms and forced him to the wooden pole. They turned him towards it and tied his hands to the top. One of the commissars took a whip out of his trench coat while the other tore open the back of Lysend's shirt. They looked at Vorink.

'Major Corens, relieve Commissar Tytus.'

'Sir.' Corens walked over to the commissar with the whip and took it from him. He pulled a short stick out of his pocket, leaned towards Lysend, and held it in front of his mouth. 'Bite this. It helps, I know.'

Lysend glanced at him, a faint look of fear in his eyes. He leaned forward and bit down. Corens walked behind him and unfurled the whip. He shot a glance at Vorink.

The Colonel nodded. 'Commence punishment.'

The whip cracked through the air, leaving a bloody trail on Lysend's back. He strained at the restraints and struggled not to cry out. The whip flew again, bringing Lysend to the tips of his toes in an effort to get away from the pain. Another slash and the stick fell from Lysend's mouth. Another trail of blood brought a scream from his throat. Time lost all meaning. All he knew was pain. By the end, Lysend had sunken into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness. His back wasn't much more than a bloody rag.

Vorink sighed. He hated himself for having punished Lysend with a whip. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he didn't believe in the penalty of death and hadn't had the man shot, as most other commanders would have, and then grimaced. That was no excuse. He looked at Corens. 'Cut him loose. Take him to the medicae building. See to it he's taken care of.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

21:05

Vorink sat outside his command tent, alongside thousands of other tents put up in the middle of the parade grounds. Since he was a colonel, the Planetary-Governor had offered to evict a family from one of the nearby habs so he could have better accommodations, but Vorink had walked away in disgust. He would not be the cause of another family's problems. Besides, what his troops had to go through, he willingly went through it alongside them. A commander that was unwilling to do so was not fit for the rank.

Vorink looked up at the star-filled sky. Occasionally one of the 'stars' would flash and disappear, signaling the death of thousands as an Imperial warship was destroyed. He knew some of the flashes were the demise of a Chaos battle-cruiser, but he doubted very many were. He glanced at the man beside him and sighed. Corens was resting his head on the back of his chair and had begun to snore.

'Major.'

Corens jerked awake and looked around him. 'Sorry sir. Dozed off for a bit there.'

'I know,' Vorink grinned. 'I think the entire camp heard you snoring.'

Corens chuckled. 'Haven't been getting much sleep lately.'

Vorink sighed inwardly. No one had been sleeping well. All contact with the other regiments stationed across the planet had been lost. Not even Sylvan could be reached. The entire city was on edge. Combat was easy; it was the waiting before a battle, knowing what was to come, that really killed a soldier.

'Go, get some rest. I can't have you dead on your feet if we're attacked in the morning.'

'At least I'd die standing,' Corens muttered as he stood up. He saluted Vorink and disappeared into the darkness.

Vorink looked back at the sky. His thoughts began to drift, finally resting on a single subject. He wondered where his family was, if they were even still alive. He wondered if his wife was still holding the house together, or if his daughter had even taken her first steps. He wished he had been able to be there the day she had been born. He had only found out that he was a new father through the stack of letters he received, as he lay wounded in a hospital ship after the campaign on Rakthor. Vorink sighed again. It had been four years since their last letter.

A sonic boom shook him away from his thoughts. He frowned as fiery contrails lit up the sky. They seemed to angle towards the city, causing Vorink to jump to his feet and run inside the tent. He grabbed the vox unit on the desk and contacted the perimeter guards.

'Contact, contact! Enemy inbound, raise the alarm. '

'But sir, what if they're the reinforcements the Astartes predicted?'

Vorink hesitated. Velthos's predictions had been eerily accurate. Everything he said would happen happened. Except one. Sergeant Velthos had told Vorink to expect Imperial reinforcements the day after the first attack. No new ships had arrived in orbit. No shuttles flew through the sky, disembarking thousands of soldiers to the cheers of the city.

'Either the reinforcements aren't coming or their ten days late and any other commander would have them shot for incompetence. Signal the alarm.'

Sirens began to wail, their keening cry cutting through the air. Guardsmen jumped out of their bunks, grabbed their rifles, and ran for the walls. It was obvious they were scared. Soldiers trembled as they climbed the stairs. Rifles wavered as the soldiers holding them fought to steady their breathing. Massive floodlights snapped on, bathing the fields in their glow.

Vorink turned back to the vox. 'All anti-air batteries, prepare to fire.'

Hundreds of quad-barreled autocannons rose skyward. Missile turrets activated and began searching for targets.

'Ground forces - kill anything the Hydras and turrets miss.'

Three hundred thousand lasrifles clattered into place, pointing out into the plains.

'Hydras, report.'

'All companies ready to fire.'

'Turrets?'

A mechanical voice came back through the vox, 'Targets locked. Missile racks at full ammunition capacity, chance of enemy evasion - one percent.'

Vorink nodded to himself, about to give the order.

'This is dropship Alpha Niner, hold your fire! We are Imperial!'

Vorink stared at the vox unit in disbelief. 'Say again?'

'We are Imperial!' A seemingly desperate voice shouted.

'Recognition codes?'

The pilot's voice cut out for a second, then came back loud and clear, still tinged with a trace of fear. 'Recognition code Alpha Zulu two-four-niner Foxtrot Echo three-three-seven Lima. Believe me now?'

'Code received and acknowledged. Who the hell are you?' Vorink demanded.

'Celestian Eighty-First under the command of Major Cythos.' The dropships flared into a touchdown outside the walls, hulls still steaming from the atmospheric re-entry. The ramps clanged to the ground and disgorged thousands of men and women wearing the flak armour of the Imperial Guard. The banners of the Celestian Eighty-First Infantry Regiment billowed in the wind, the Angel of Celestal standing proud.

04:23

Shadows on shadows. Black slid on black. A group of four armoured figures slowly made their way through a Chaos camp. The cultist on watch sniffed. The Imperial dogs would die soon. The entire might of the Host was gathered at the edges of the system and would soon show these wretched slaves the true meaning of pain. He smiled. Even the thought of pain affected him. A slight tingling sensation flew down his left side. He looked down, as the tingle became an annoyance. His eyes bulged as he saw the steel sticking between his ribs. The soldier behind him caught the cultist as he fell and gently lowered him to the ground. He pulled out his knife and nodded to his sergeant.

Velthos flashed an evil smile. He took out his own knife and slit the back of the nearest tent. Pulling the edges aside, he slipped in. Another cultist sat before a computer, typing out a report to his commander. Velthos walked up behind the savage, wrapped his hands around its neck, and spun the head around with a massive twist. The body remained facing the computer. Velthos smiled at the cultist's eyes as they glazed over. He left the corpse where it was and scanned the report.

'Grid Delta-Four, section Gamma. Let's move.'

The squad of Archangels melted into the shadows. They moved quickly and quietly, killing with blades instead of bullets. A squad of fifteen Chaos-worshipers gathered their gear to go on a short patrol. They were slaughtered at the edge of the camp. Come morning, the entire camp would be placed on high alert. The bodies would be found and heads would roll. By then, Velthos and his squad would be long gone.

His captain wanted the Chaos commander killed, and so, the wretch would die. Sergeant Ekthalon and his squad were busy in the world's polar regions, so the task fell to Velthos. He would ensure its completion.

The squad froze. The stench of blood filled the air. A lone Chaos Marine stepped into sight. Its armour was covered in gore. Hunks of human meat were stabbed onto the spikes on its shoulder pads. Chains hung from its power pack, swaying with the Heretic's movement. Disembodied heads swung with the chains, still bleeding freely. Horns sprouted from the warp-spawns head, curving inwards to meet at a blood-covered skull.

Velthos struggled to control himself. Killing the heretic now would only give away their position and make their job hell to complete. The filth passed within ten feet of Velthos's position. He allowed himself to let out the breath he'd been holding only once the Chaos Marine had rounded a corner and passed from view.

'Keep moving. Two kilometres to target.' The Marines sprinted forward. They used the tiniest of shadows, passing beneath even the notice of their Chaos counter-parts. Their pace ate up the ground, putting them outside the command tent within moments.

Velthos turned to his squad. 'Let's do this quietly. Knives only.' He unsheathed his own blade and stormed into the tent. At a glance he saw five Chaos Marines and fourteen cultists standing around consoles, checking readings, and offering prayers to their Gods. Too easy.

Velthos charged forward, his squad fanning out behind him, two on the right, and two on the left. Within seconds of entry, four traitor Marines were dead, along with nearly all of the cultists. Blood sprayed from cut throats and slashed arteries.

Velthos ducked a vicious punch from the Marine in front of him and slammed his knife into the crevice where helm met chest plate. He tore out his knife, spun behind the gasping Chaos filth and stabbed two lightning-quick strikes into both the Marines armpits, cutting even more arteries.

Ironic, he thought, how a follower of Khorne could choke on his own blood.

Blood. He could smell a sudden increase of it in the air. Pausing at his work, the Chaos Lord shouted, calling for one of his servants in the next room. When no response was forthcoming, he stood up and retrieved his man-sized scythe. He walked to the curtain separating his quarters from the rest of the tent and tore it aside. Seeing the massacre before him, he slowly backed into his quarters, raising his scythe in a battle-ready stance. He pricked his ears as he thought he heard a boot-step in front of him.

The Chaos Lord lunged forward, sweeping his weapon in a devastating arc. He hesitated as the headless body of one of his lieutenants toppled to the floor, cut cleanly in two. A shadow moved behind him and slammed a gleaming silver blade into the crevice where the back of the helm met the chest plate. The knife was brutally twisted, ensuring the spinal column was severed, before being yanked out.

Velthos smiled to himself as the corpse fell to the ground. Base of the skull, twist, pull. No blood, instantaneous death. Clean kill.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

12:35

'So, explain to me why your seven days late.' Colonel Vorink glared at the man before him, waiting for a response.

'Storms in the warp. Couldn't get properly underway until four days ago – shiptime,' Major Cythos calmly replied.

'And why are you here? What happened to Belmund?'

'Cythos grinned. 'Found a way around the paper-pushers. Sent us back to help you. He doesn't want his best commander dead. At least, not yet.'

Velthos paused. 'I see. Does he know all he's done is condemn another forty-thousand troopers to death?'

'Seventy thousand actually – the rest never had time to disembark the ship. Had to pull back.

Vorink looked him in the eye. 'You're not going to get another chance to land them on this planet, Major. They will live; you will not.' He was about to continue when a corporal poked his head through the tent flap.

'Sir, Brother-Sergeant Velthos is requesting an audience with you. Shall I send him in?'

Vorink sighed. 'The sergeant knows he can go wherever he damn well pleases. He doesn't take orders from me.'

The guardsman hesitated. 'Is that a yes?' Vorink glared at the man until he left.

A moment later the room seemed much smaller than it had a second ago. Cythos stared at the two-and-a-half metre tall giant beside him in barely concealed awe. The figure nodded towards him and turned to face Vorink. The light from the lamp on the table did not even glint off the armour.

'Colonel.'

'What news do you have for me, Sergeant?' Vorink asked.

Velthos reached up and unclasped his helm, bringing it to his side. His face was heavily scarred, almost to the point of deformity. Dark brown eyes stared down at Vorink. His auburn hair was cut short, barely visible as a stubble on his skull.

'The Chaos commander has been eliminated.'

Vorink's jaw dropped. 'What?'

'My squad and I killed the Chaos Lord in command of the crusade early yesterday morning. By now a new wretch will have taken control.'

Cythos glanced up at the marine. 'Well, can't you kill him too?'

'They will have strengthened the guard and set traitor marines on the perimeter instead of the cultist filth. Might I make a suggestion?'

Vorink glanced at Cythos, as if to say 'like I can really stop you.'

'Of course,' he said.

Velthos looked at the major. 'Sergeant Kelthor, he's in your regiment?'

'Aye…' Cythos said after a moment's hesitation.

'Place him and his squad to guard the Governor's personal transport ship. No one is to leave the city.'

'And why is that?'

'It would compromise this position.'

'How so?'

Velthos glanced at Vorink. 'Colonel, what are the aerial defenses of this city?'

'Four-thousand Hydra Flak tanks and three-thousand automated AA turrets spread throughout the city, and five SAM sites at each gate.' Vorink said the numbers without hesitation. He'd looked at them enough to have them memorized. He also had a vague feeling he knew where the sergeant was going.

'Then, in order for a person to leave the city, there would either have to be a safe corridor out of the turrets' firing arcs, or codes to shut them down. Either way, it would reveal to the enemy a weakness they could exploit.'

Cythos muttered to himself. 'And why Kelthor?'

'He's the best.'

Vorink nodded. 'Anything else?'

The Marine turned his cold gaze toward him and looked deep into his eyes.

'Your general is about to die.'

22:35

Arcs of fire made their way across the sky. Ash hung in the air, creating a grey haze through which everything was seen. Fires cast a flickering light on the ruins of buildings and vehicles. A squad of Guardsmen from the Celestian Forty-Second Infantry sprinted down the street, disturbing the ash. Gunfire raced after them, explosive bolt rounds gouging craters out of the concrete.

The soldier at the rear spun around. He raised his lasgun and fired on full auto, unleashing an incoherent scream. A bolt round slammed into him and pulverized his face.

The squad ran on, not even bothering to grab the fallen soldier's tags. The guardsman in front darted down an alley. He stumbled back a second later, engulfed in flames. His agonized screams mingled with the insane laughter of Chaos and chased after the squad. An explosion tore out the side of a building, scattering debris amongst the guardsmen.

A dreadnought stepped out from the fires and aimed its rotary cannon at the retreating squad. Three of the soldiers managed to dive to the ground in time. The screams of their brothers echoed in the close confines of the street. One of the guardsmen rolled onto her back and fired at the Chaos war machine.

The dreadnought shrugged off the impacts and lumbered towards them. A soldier leapt to his feet and sprinted towards a nearby doorway. A sniper round splattered blood and brain matter on the building's steps. The dreadnought charged forward, raising its massive power claw.

An explosive round screamed down the street and slammed into the dreadnought, throwing it back and blowing off its power claw. The two remaining soldiers watched in shock as the object of their destruction detonated in a raging explosion. A Leman Russ pulled up behind them and fired again. A lieutenant leaned out of the top hatch and grabbed the heavy stubber on the tank's roof. He turned it on the Chaos Marines and opened fire.

'Move it troopers! Get to base – _now_!'

The soldiers spun around and continued their mad dash to the middle of the city. Turning a corner, they heard the tank explode behind them.

22:38

General Sylvan winced as two more guardsmen ran into sight. Yet another part of the frontline had collapsed. The soldiers running towards him were the survivors of four companies sent to defend the eastern hab complexes. Sylvan watched, helpless, as a Predator lumbered into view behind them and scattered their body parts across the street. He ducked into the building next to him as the tank fired again.

'I need armoured support at the intersection of Brakespur and Twenty-Fifth!'

'Roger that, Sir. On our way.'

A minute later, four Leman Russ MBTs rolled onto the street and advanced toward the Predator, firing as they went. Sylvan ran out behind them and dashed to the end of the street. He entered the last building and leaned against a pillar, letting the shadows envelope him. The cool air of the warehouse was heaven to his skin.

A figure in the red robes of the Mechanicum ran up to him. 'Sir?'

'How many tanks have been recovered?'

'Sixteen.'

Sylvan glanced at the adept. 'And how many are in working condition?'

The Mechanicum servant hesitated. 'None, Sir.'

'The warheads – can they be armed?'

'Aye, but what's the point?'

The general looked around him. Forty Guardsmen had set up barricades and sandbags and manned heavy bolters and autocannons. Fifty-three lasguns pointed out from the windows. Sylvan knew they didn't stand a chance.

'Rig a remote detonater. Arm the mines outside and grab a gun.'

The adept's eyes widened as he understood Sylvan's meaning. 'Aye, Sir.'

A corporal glanced over at him. 'This is it, isn't it Sir?'

'Aye, that it is.' He looked each soldier in the eye. 'It's been an honour.'

The Mechanicum adept walked up to the general and handed him a detonator. Ready to blow us to hell.'

Sylvan walked into the back room and headed downstairs. He wanted to wait to activate the warheads. He wanted to see his enemy's face as they realized they'd walked into the jaws of death.

Gunfire sounded upstairs as he stood in front of a row of tanks and faced the door. An explosion ripped through the room above him and silence reigned. Boot steps rang on the metal stairs. They paused by the door. A loud bang reverberated through the cavern as the door flew off its hinges. A Chaos Marine walked in and faced Sylvan. Four more traitors moved in behind it.

'Take this one alive. I want to hear its screams.'

Hands behind his back, thumb depressing a button, General Sylvan smiled.

The night lit up brighter than day and a huge explosion engulfed the city as sixteen Deathstrike Missiles detonated simultaneously. A crater stretching thirty kilometres in every direction was gouged into the earth marking Sylvan's last act of defiance.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

02:47

The lights of the city slowly faded to nothing behind the armoured column. The headlights of Leman Russ tanks and Basilisk Artillery lit the road in a ghostly white glow. Other than the noise of the engines, not a sound was made. Major Corens blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Vorink had told him that, according to the Archangels, Sylvan was dead. He'd also told him to take two companies and support the general he firmly believed to still be fighting.

Corens had immediately gathered Charlie and Delta companies and set out along the Northern road. The convoy ignored the wrecked hulks still strewn about the filed and entered the mountain pass. Cliffs rose four kilometres into the air on either side of the road, blocking out the moon. Corens leaned against the railing of the lead Basilisk's firing platform. He breathed in the fresh air and sighed. Something was going to go wrong. He could feel it in his gut. He glanced over at the man on the other side of the platform.

'Private, get over here,' he yelled.

The man walked over and saluted as best he could on the jerking tank. 'Sir?'

'Lysend… Can you read fire arcs?'

'Sir?' Lysend's face screwed up in confusion.

'Can you tell at what elevation to fire by the enemy's fire arcs?'

Lysend hesitated. 'Aye, Sir.'

'And that's why you used to be captain…' Corens muttered to himself.

'What?'

'Never mind. Load the cannon and raise it sixty degrees.'

'Aye, Sir.' Lysend scrambled to do as he was told. He grabbed an Earthshaker shell and opened the firing hatch. He placed the shell into the breach and slammed the hatch shut. Moving over to the wheel connected to the cannon, he started cranking it up. Corens heard a voice in his ear.

'Sir? I'm getting a reading that the gun is loaded, is there a problem?' The tank's commander asked through the vox.

'Possibly. Prepare to fire on Lysend's command.'

'Lysend? But he's-'

'Better than you at this kind of shit. Do as I said.'

'Aye, Sir.'

Corens looked behind him and smiled. The rest of Delta were following his example. Lysend had trained them well. With cannons raised and ready to fire, the convoy left the protection of the mountains and entered the Northern Tundra. Two kilometres away, a forest covered the lands like a green carpet, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The convoy continued forward for five-hundred metres before Corens heard it. A whistling split the air and cut deep into his heart. He switched his vox to the command frequency so every tank commander could hear his voice.

'Charlie, get your asses back to the pass. Delta, prepare to fire on Lysend's command.'

Lysend glanced up at the burning arcs in the night sky. 'Eighty-one degrees.'

The cannons rose the centimeter required. The tanks at the head of the column began to swerve back towards the mountains just as the first shells landed. Explosions tore out the sides of Main Battle Tanks and Artillery alike, their armour nothing to the Chaos Heavy Artillery. The tanks picked up speed, throwing dirt into the air behind them. Lysend ignored the barrage and glanced at the incoming arcs one last time.

'Fire.'

The tanks of Delta Artillery Company opened up. Corens' own tank had just managed to fire when a shell landed right on top of it.

03:52

The Thunderhawk cut through the clouds at a tremendous speed. The pitch black of its armour blended perfectly with the night. The gunship banked hard right and started its descent. At ten metres the ramp blew open and five armoured figures leapt out. The Thunderhawk closed its hatch, regained altitude, and left the Astartes behind.

Velthos took a second to reorient himself. 'Move.'

The squad set off at a sprint towards the nearby city. This was the area of the only major Seekers presence. It contained their gene-seed buried deep beneath the city. It was also one of the most heavily populated areas on the planet.

The city's walls rose into view, shattered in more than a dozen places. Marines clad in the deep forest green armour of the Seekers fought ferociously to hold each of the breaches. Imperial Navy Valkyrie pattern Assault Craft roared overhead. Missiles streaked from their under-wing rocket pods and slammed into the ground, throwing up dirt and body parts. Imperial Landing Craft escorted by Vendetta Gunships arced skywards, evacuating the civilians inside the city.

Velthos and his squad slammed into the Chaos lines. The Archangels cut a path to the nearest breach and entered the city. Velthos ran up to a Seekers marine and grabbed his arm.

'Where is your commander?' he asked.

The marine pointed in the vague direction of the city's center. The squad of Archangels took off at a sprint. They passed long lines of refugees making their way to the evacuation sites, jumped barricades, and vaulted crevices gouged into the earth by Chaos bombing runs. Hundred story tall buildings blocked out the sky and caused the sounds of the war outside the walls to echo throughout the city.

Velthos skidded to a stop. He glanced back at the woman he had just passed. The Archangel with the heavy bolter noticed his sergeant's distraction.

'Sergeant? Time is running short.'

Velthos ignored him. He walked up to the woman and tapped her shoulder. The civilian looked over her shoulder and nearly dropped the baby in her arms in shock. Shoulder length brown hair covered in grime framed a face lined with fatigue. Dark green eyes stared back at Vorink with a mixture of awe and fear. The woman's shoulders were bent after four years of hard labor, working to feed both herself and her child.

The Archangel looked down at her. 'What's your name?'

The woman hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder as if she wasn't sure the being before her was actually addressing her, and not some person behind her.

'Cynthia Vorink, Excellency…' she stammered.

Velthos flinched at the title. 'What is your child's name?'

The woman hesitated again, unsure whether or not to tell this stranger of her family. 'Yevgeniya Vorink…'

'Your child has her father's eyes.' With that the marine turned and left the gaping woman behind him. His squad kept pace as they entered the city's centre. Refugees crowded shoulder to shoulder trying to cram as many people as possible onto the Landing Craft. Seekers Marines formed a cordon around one end of the evacuation site, blocking off civilian access. Thunderhawks idled on the ground as they were loaded with the chapter's precious gene-seed. A figure standing head and shoulders above the marines around him directed the loading.

Velthos walked up to the terminator and cleared his throat. 'Sir.'

The marine glanced down at him and grimaced. 'What is it, Sergeant?'

'Why aren't your Astartes fighting?' Velthos asked.

The terminator gave a bark of laughter and motioned towards the sound of combat. 'Have you not glanced outside recently?'

Velthos pointed to the marines forming the cordon. 'That's stupid. Civilians would never approach an Astartes of their own free will. If you want to keep this city, you'll get them to the walls.'

'Two things. One, this city was never meant to hold. At most, those Astartes would only buy me thirty minutes. We'll be done loading in ten. I'm doing them a favour by keeping them alive. Second, show some damned respect when addressing the Master of the Seekers and address me as _sir_.'

The Archangel grinned mirthlessly beneath his helmet. 'Captain Aktar is sending down a transport to pick up me and my squad and take us into orbit. Until it gets here, we'll be fighting to defend your city, _Sir_.' Velthos spat the word as if it were poisoned food and turned to the men under his command.

'Telnoth, lets put that fine weapon of yours to good use.'

The marine with the heavy bolter nodded and ran back towards the walls. Velthos followed at his heels, his thoughts drifting to the Seeker's Chaptermaster. Malkoth was going to get them all killed. All he cared about was his damned gene-seed. The evacuation was merely a by-product off his efforts. A shout interrupted Velthos' thoughts.

'Heretics!' Telnoth shouted. The squad melted into the shadows.

A group of Seekers ran backwards, spraying the area in front of them with bolter fire. Howls echoed through the air as the explosive shells found their mark. The howls evolved into laughter as the shells did nothing more than scratch the enemy's armour. Ten Chaos terminators lumbered into view.

They stopped and unleashed a torrent of fire from their storm bolters. The last three members of the Seekers squad twitched and danced as the shells tore into them. The lead Chaos marine flexed its massive claws and sniffed the air.

Velthos and his Archangels tore out of the shadows and dove amongst the Fallen Astartes. Velthos ducked a swipe from a terminator's claws and fired point blank into its chest. The heretic stumbled and readied its own storm bolter. It fired, barely missing the Archangels sergeant as he dove aside.

Velthos rose to a crouch by the terminator's side and slammed his combat knife into the back of its knee. The Chaos Marine flinched and turned with amazing speed. It swiped its claws at Velthos, gouging three rents into his chest plate and throwing him against the side of a building. Blood dripped out of the middle scar.

Telnoth roared as he saw his sergeant sent flying. He aimed his heavy bolter and let loose a hail of fist-sized explosive shells at the Chaos wretch. Laughter rolled up and down the street as the terminator vanished in a flash of red light. Another flash signaled its return behind Telnoth. He managed to duck its first attack, but the terminator's back-swing crushed his ribs and slammed him to the ground. He coughed up blood and rolled aside, narrowly avoiding having his skull caved in by the heretic's boot.

A sharp whistle split the air. Velthos screwed his eyes shut as a high-yield missile streaked down the street. It impacted on the building across the street from him and detonated in a raging ball of fire and debris. The explosion washed over the Archangels and Chaos Marines. A rune covered knife flew out from the Chaos squad just before the fires covered them and impaled itself in Velthos's chest. His world went dark as he lost consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

09:42

'Incoming!'

Explosions ripped through the curtain wall surrounding Vladovsk, tearing a breach into it twenty metres wide. A horde of cultists flooded into the opening, slaughtering the surviving guardsmen. The Basilisks in the clearing lowered their cannons and fired point-blank into the seething mass of bodies. The high-yield explosives sent dirt and body parts flying into the air. The Basilisks reversed towards the hab complexes and fired again.

Hidden doors in the ground flew open and five companies of guardsmen stormed out of the tunnels dug beneath the city. The two hordes slammed into each other with and explosive roar. The whines and hisses of close-range lasgun fire mingled with the flash of bayonets and the cries of wounded.

Major Cythos ducked a cultist's sword and shot him in the face with his pistol. He swung his chainsword in a vicious arc and hacked into another heretic's neck.

'Breach! The wall has been breached!' he yelled into his vox-bead.

The reply was washed out in static.

'Damnit.' He turned to the men beside him, 'Give no quarter! Send them back to the hell from whence they came!'

Lasfire streaked down from above as the guardsmen on the walls recovered from the explosion. The cultists dropped by the dozens, but every hole was immediately filled by more of the Chaos spawn. The weight of the enemy began to slowly beat the first five companies of the Celestian Eighty-First back towards the city.

'Hold the line, damnit!' Cythos yelled. He sidestepped a bayonet and emptied his pistol into the heretic's chest. He dropped the spent weapon and swung his chainsword double-handed, disemboweling the cultist in front of him.

A roar overcame the cries of battle as ten figures arced over the mass of cultists on wings of fire. The Chaos Raptors dropped into the men and women of the Eighty-First and began the slaughter. The lasrounds directed at the Chaos Marines ricocheted off their armour, leaving nothing more than a scratch. Within twenty seconds of the traitors' landings, an entire platoon had been decimated.

Cythos screamed in rage. Followed by his command squad, the major charged into the Raptor's midst. He managed to dig his chainsword into the neck of the first Marine he came to before being thrown to the ground by a punch in the face. Dazed and struggling for breath, Cythos could do nothing but wreath in agony as the soldiers around him were massacred.

A gauntleted hand reached down and grasped Cythos by the throat, lifting him into the air. The Raptor sergeant glared into the major's eyes, burning into his very soul.

'Foolish human…' the armoured hand snapped shut, crushing Cythos's neck like nothing more than a piece of wood.

09:48

Jask Forisk of the Palace Guard ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The rest of his squad ran with him, sheltering the cowering planetary governor in the centre of the group. The city had been breached and the Governor had to be evacuated immediately.

The Governor's shuttle had already been prepped for launch. It had been ready since the very first Chaos wretch had been sighted. Forisk had sent a man ahead so that they could lift off as soon as the governor arrived. He snapped his pistol up as a guard ran around a corner.

'Sir!'

Forisk frowned. 'I thought I told you to ready the damn ship.'

The guard's eyes widened, seeing the pointed unwaveringly at his face. 'Sir, there's a squad of soldiers standing watch. They wouldn't let me-'

His head exploded as Forisk pulled the trigger. The guard captain turned to the group behind him.

'Failure to follow orders means death. The Governor must be evacuated – at all costs.'

Forisk continued forward, emerging on the Palace's landing pad, four stories above the ground. He saw Sergeant Kelthor standing in front of the shuttle and smiled. He began walking towards him.

'I'm sorry, but no one is permitted to leave the city,' Kelthor said.

Forisk's gun snapped up for a second time; he fired. Kelthor dove to his right in an effort to avoid the gunshot. He was thrown against the side of the shuttle, his chest pulverized, and immediately lost consciousness.

Forisk let him be; the soldier would die soon enough. He turned his weapon on the other guardsmen as both squads opened fire. Seven of Forisk's group dropped to the ground before Kelthor's men had been killed. The Planetary Governor cowered behind Forisk's unmoving body.

'Get His Excellency aboard the ship.' The two remaining Palace Guards rushed to obey, settling the Governor into his personal cabin. Forisk walked over to one of his men. The guard had a chest wound and would live, if given the proper treatment.

Forisk shot the man through the head – he would just slow them down. He boarded the shuttle and slowly began to lift from the Palace's roof. Below them, lying in an ever-growing pool of his own blood, Kelthor finally died, triggering the mines he'd wired to his life-signs and placed all over the ship.

The resulting explosion tore a hole in the top two levels of the Palace and scattered wreckage all over the lawn.

09:51

Colonel Vorink's eyes snapped back towards the city's centre. A huge roar thundered through the air. A guardsman with a vox-caster ran over to him.

'Sir, the Palace has been hit!'

'By what? A missile?' Vorink asked.

'Negative. The men stationed around it report that the shuttle the Governor had boarded detonated moments after lift-off. Sir, the explosion came from _inside_ the ship.'

'Then Kelthor did his job.'

The soldier blinked in surprise. 'What?'

'Never mind. We're pulling back to sector zulu. Signal the retreat and order the tanks to cover the infantry.'

'Aye, Sir.'

Vorink ran over to his own tank and climbed inside. The _Fury of Celestal_ rumbled forward alongside the _Blood of Valdevski_ and the _Destroyer of Worlds_. Behind them came fifty other tanks of the Tenth. They rounded a corner and the battle spread out before them.

Thousands of Celestal's finest fought hand-to-hand against millions of Chaos spawn. The few soldiers that could retreat turned and ran towards the relative safety of Vorink's armoured group. The men in front had to keep fighting or die faster.

Vorink signaled Echo Company. 'The men are too entrenched to run. Open up a gap for them.'

Behind the _Fury_, the Basilisks raised their cannons and fired. Burning arcs flew across the sky and slammed into the Chaos Horde just behind the frontlines. Explosions tore apart the cultist's and even flung Marines to the ground. The Basilisks fired again. More detonations rippled across the lines.

The cultists left standing were slaughtered by the remaining guardsmen. The soldiers turned and sprinted for Vorink's group. The Chaos Horde recovered and surged after them. Vorink's Basilisks continued their barrage, but the horde didn't even slow down.

The other four tank companies rolled forward and opened up. Carefully aimed shells screamed over the guardsmen's heads and tore into the Chaos lines. A Leman Russ Punisher turned its gatling cannon on the cultist's right flank, unleashing a stream of high-velocity bullets at the enemy. The wretches fell like wheat, but they refused to be stopped.

Rockets flew into Vorink's tank group. Three Leman Russ MBTs were destroyed and two more were disabled. The tanks' advance halted.

'We've done enough. Follow the infantry,' Vorink ordered.

The tanks reversed after the other guardsmen, firing as they went. Vorink saw a flash of light and shouted to his crew.

'Everybody out!' He threw open the hatch and leapt off the tank, rolling to absorb the impact. One other soldier made it out before a missile slammed into the _Fury_ and blew the tank apart. The fire of the explosion caught the running crewman's back. The man screamed in agony and dove to the ground, trying to put out the fire. Instead of going out, the flames spread to the rest of his body.

Vorink shot the man in the head to put him out of his misery. He turned and ran alongside the tanks, yelling in his vox-bead.

'Fall back!'

Behind him the servants of Chaos howled in laughter and charged forward.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

09:57

Buildings crumbled around the lone squad of Astartes. A solider in pitch-black armour stood over his sergeant, unleashing hell on the enemy with his heavy bolter. His armour seemed to absorb the light around it, creating its own shadows and making it extremely hard to hit.

The soldier's three comrades laid down suppressing fire from piles of debris. The horde before them staggered to a halt. The weight of fire ground into them, creating barricades out of their own dead. The closeness of the street worked against them, funneling the cultists into the Astartes' lines of fire.

The Marine with the heavy bolter looked down and kicked his sergeant for the hundredth time.

Velthos tore open his eyes. A dull ache remained where the knife had stabbed him. He reached down and tried to pull it out. The hilt turned to ash and crumbled in his hands, leaving the blade buried in his chest.

Vlethos grunted and rolled to his side. He got to his feet and grabbed his rifle. He was about to charge towards the enemy, but he remembered his captain's orders. He pointed to the city's centre.

'It's time to go, let's move.'

The squad immediately turned and sprinted to the evacuation site, leaving the horde of cultists behind them. Within minutes, the Astartes reached the site. A single Thunderhawk waited for them.

'About damn time. Aktar wants us out of here, _now_,' the pilot yelled.

Velthos ignored him and climbed in the back. The Thunderhawk's ramp closed shut. The gunship lifted into the sky and angled up. Clouds raced by the speeding gunship. Fire covered the hull as it entered the atmospheric layers.

The fire abruptly whisked out as the ship entered the void. Massive capital ships traded fire across space. Missiles and plasma lances crossed the void in seconds, tearing out the sides of ships and spilling bodies into the void.

An Astartes Strike-Cruiser appeared as if out of nowhere, lit by the flashes of its bombardment cannons. The pitch-black ship faded away again, barely visible as a vague outline. The Thunderhawk flew into one of the Strike-Cruiser's hangars and disembarked its cargo. The Archangels ship turned away from the planet and entered the warp, responding to the call of its master.

10:13

Chaptermaster Malkoth of the seekers stormed onto the bridge of his Battle-Barge. He glanced at the sergeant in command and took over.

'Leave the Imperial Guard and civilian ships at Kolthak – they'll slow us down. Ready the Exterminatus arrays and purge the planet.'

The Seekers sergeant flinched. 'But Sir, there are still people down there, we can't just-'

Malkoth barreled into him and slammed against the wall. His eyes blazed with fury.

'This. World. Must. Burn.'

10:15

'This is Colonel Vorink of the Celestian Tenth Heavy Armoured. We've gathered all the remaining civilians and guardsmen and abandoned Vladovsk. No one was left behind. We're making our way to the Eastern Foothills and we'll make our stand there. If you want to keep this planet, we need Astartes support. Please respond.'

Vorink lowered the mic and looked at the trooper with the vox-caster. 'If you here anything, let me know.'

'Aye, Sir.'

Vorink glanced back toward the city. Servants of the Chaos Gods streamed after them, held at bay by the pounding Basilisks and five other tanks. Vorink had unleashed his super-heavies.

Three Stormsword Titan Hunters alongside two Baneblades decimated the Chaos ranks. Huge explosions tore into the seething masses. Nothing stood before the tanks' fury. A squad of Chaos Marines charged forward only to be blown apart by a Shadowsword's Volcano Cannon. Even they didn't get back up.

Vorink stood beside the _Blood of Valdevski_ and watched the tanks' slow, fighting retreat. The Vanquisher's commander leaned out of his tank and grinned down at Vorink.

'We may survive this war yet, eh Sir?' he laughed. The Lieutenant glanced skyward and a look of shock crossed his face.

'Drop Pods!'

Vorinks head snapped up. Bright streaks of fire flew down from the heavens. Hundreds of arcs filled the sky. Vorink's gut tightened. There were too many streaks.

'Shut the hatch!' he yelled. Vorink activated his vox-bead.

'All Commanders, close hatches and seal vehicles against hostile environment. I reapeat, close hatches and seal the tanks, _now_!' He jumped on top of the _Blood_ and dropped inside.

The Lieutenant turned to Vorink and frowned. 'Sir, the commander of the Demolisher _Vladovsk's Rage_ is reporting a vox malfunction. He says he's not getting any response to his questions. Hell, he doesn't even know if anyone can hear him, but he's wondering what the hell is going on.'

'Shut the hatch behind me,' Vorink said. He reopened the tank's top hatch and leapt out. He looked around him and spotted the Demolisher and a confused looking commander. He glanced in the direction of the city.

'Not enough time…' Vorink muttered. He sprinted towards the Demolisher, yelling as he went. Behind Vorink, the fire from the heavens detonated a hundred metres above the ground. Black specks filled the air, spread by the wind. He ran faster.

'Seal off your tank!' Vorink shouted, as loud as he could.

The Demolisher's commander finally understood and dropped inside. Just as the hatch sealed shut, the black mist reached the regiment. Vorink slammed against the tank's side as pure agony coursed through hin. He fell convulsing to the ground, struggling to breath. It felt as if something was eating him from the inside out.

For the first time in his life, Vorink screamed.

10:32

Malkoth watched as his world was covered in the black mist. He watched as all life on the planet was extinguished. He watched as the virus quickly ate itself out.

'Fire bombardment cannons.'

Missiles streaked into the atmosphere and detonated, igniting the gasses left by the virus. Malkoth continued watching as Celestal was engulfed in flames.


End file.
